


Five Times Deacon Claybourne Went to Rehab and One Time He Didn't

by Rachel Wilder (rwilder)



Category: Nashville (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 03:13:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3274577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rwilder/pseuds/Rachel%20Wilder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of vignettes looking at my take on how and why Deacon ended up going to rehab.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Deacon Claybourne Went to Rehab and One Time He Didn't

 

* * *

**Chapter 1: The First Time**

* * *

Deacon Claybourne didn't start out as a drunk. In fact, growing up in the hills of Tennessee, he wasn't around drinking much at all.

And moving to Nashville, meeting Rayna Jaymes and starting a career in music didn't make him a drunk either.

Stage fright made him a drunk. Or at least that's what he used to tell himself. And stage fright didn't always get him-heck, he could sing on the stage at the Bluebird any time, drunk or not, but if he knew then what he knew now about how those big arena stages were going to change his life, he might have never started writing the songs with Rayna that got Watty recording their demos and put them out on those big wide stages. Nope. He could have just stayed in his little dive bars, playing his songs for tips and never awakened the demons that drove him to destruction again and again.

"Can you believe this?" Rayna said as they walked out onto the wide stage, the crew quickly loading in their gear. The arena was dark, making it hard to tell just how big it really was.

"Wait til you hear it with a crowd," Bucky said as he walked up behind them. "Tim's bus just pulled in. Once the crew gets everything loaded in, he'll do his sound check and then we can get the band up and run through your stuff."

Opening for Tim McGraw. This really was the big time now.

"I don't know, Buck-how can we ever fill this place?" Rayna asked. "I can't imagine singing to people I can't even see out in those high seats."

"Maybe we better go up and check those seats out," Deacon suggest. "Might give us a better idea of how they're gonna feel when we're up on stage."

"Maybe," Rayna said. She sounded nervous. Now she was making him nervous, too.

"I'll grab a little something for us to share up there-might take the edge off," he offered. Oh, it took the edge off alright.

* * *

Four months on the road. Ninety-five dates in eighty-five cities. Four months of taking the edge off the anxiety.

Deacon would like to say that he's holding it together, but to be honest, he's kind of a sloppy drunk. Almost missed that night in Dallas. Pretended he got food poisoning at the Iowa State Fair.

He can tell that Rayna's on to him, but she hasn't said anything. Not until the last night in Oklahoma City.

"We gonna talk about this?" she asks as she takes his hand off the bottle and into her own.

"Too much?" he asks.

She nods. "You think you can stop when we get home?"

He'd like to say yes, but to be totally honest, he's tried to stop. Every single day since their third show in North Carolina.

"Want to," he says instead.

"So, you'll let me help you?" she asks. "Maybe go someplace for a little bit to just rest your mind after this is all over?"

"Like the cabin?" he asked, thinking that the only thing he needed was to just get off of these big stages and back into his quiet life.

"Maybe somewhere a little more structured. With folks to help you," Rayna replied. "Do it for me, Deacon?"

And he did. He did it for her.

* * *

**Chapter 2: The Second Time**

* * *

Sobriety, the first time around, was pretty sweet. After twenty-eight days in treatment, Deacon returned home to the apartment he shared with Rayna to find her waiting with open arms.

She supported his recovery. They started writing. They got back in the studio. They got back on the road.

Strangely enough, the big arenas didn't scare him this time like they did before. He and Rayna kept their tradition of going up to the nosebleed seats, but instead of drinking whiskey, now they just made out.

He stopped drinking booze cause he was drunk on Rayna.

The tour took a break for Thanksgiving. He wanted to head straight to the cabin, but Rayna said she had to put in an appearance at her dad's house for dinner. Tandy had a new fiance, and Rayna had to make an appearance.

His buddy Vince was back in town, after touring with Shania Twain. Deacon had cancelled plans a few times with him, but they had promised for sure that they would get together over the holiday before everyone headed back out of town. So, they made plans to meet up with Vince's friend Carmen for a casual friends' Thanksgiving. He and Rayna would head out to the cabin on Friday.

He wanted to see Vince. He wasn't sure about how he was going to handle it-they knew he wasn't drinking anymore, but he also had not done any socializing.

After getting out of rehab, he had started going to an AA meeting at the Presbyterian church most every morning. This guy Jerry, a sometimes songwriter and occasional waiter, was his sponsor. Jerry was a good guy and AA was a great program, but sometimes Deacon felt like Jerry didn't really get him.

Maybe he needed to find a new sponsor, but for now Jerry would have to do.

* * *

When he pulled up to the house, the lights were on, the music was flowing out and with the mild late fall weather, groups of people were gathered on the front lawn, some smoking, others drinking.

"Deacon!" Carmen called out as he walked up. "What can I get you?"

Deacon smiled and leaned in to give her a quick hug. "You got some Coke?"

She smiled back and gestured toward the house. "In the fridge. And Vince is in the kitchen, I think."

He headed into the house, nodding and waving to the folks he recognized.

"Deacon Claybourne," a dark haired man called out as he walked into the kitchen. "Damned good to see you, man!"

He stepped forward as Vince threw his arms around Deacon. "Hey, watch the arms-I need these hands to make a living," Deacon said as Vince gave him a tight squeeze. Vince let go and stepped back.

"You're lookin' good, Deacon. How's Rayna?" Vince asked as he took a drag on his beer.

"Great," Deacon replied. "She's over at Lamar's place tonight."

"Hope I get to see her," Vince replied. "I miss that girl!"

Deacon grabbed a can of Coke from the fridge and popped it open. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to get to a party like this one late-but fact of the matter was unless he was going to stop being friends with all the people in his life, he was going to have to get used to being around people getting drunk while he wasn't.

"You get a little bit of a break?" Vince asked.

Deacon nodded and took another sip from the can. "Yeah, we don't go out again until next weekend and then it's just a couple of weeks and we're back until after the holidays. Seems like the arenas are all booked up with the Nutcracker and other holiday stuff."

"Same with us," Vince replied as he pulled another beer from the cooler on the floor. He grabbed a bottle open and pulled the cap off, tossing it across the kitchen counter. "Two more weeks with Shania and then I'm off until after Christmas and in January we go back into the studio."

"Gentleman!"

Vince and Deacon turned around to find their friend Gary standing in the door holding a bottle of Kentucky's finest bourbon. "Just signed a deal, got the check-who's going to share a shot with me?"

And he knew he shouldn't have done it. It was ego, or stupidity, because he knew that being a drunk meant he could not drink.

* * *

The next day, as he waited in the cell with the other bruised drunks, he tried to figure out how he'd gotten from point A at Carmen's house to point B here in the Davidson County lock-up. A shot of Gary's bourbon. Another. The suggestion to go to Tootsies. A comment from some guy. A fight.

"Deacon Claybourne?"

He looked up as the officer called out his name. Who had come? He hadn't called Rayna. He couldn't. He got up and followed the officer down the hall.

It was Vince.

"Thanks, man," Deacon said as he held his hand out to shake Vince's hand.

"Sorry, Deacon," Vince said. "I should have been smarter about last night."

"Nah, it's my own damned fault," Deacon replied. "Rayna know?"

"I told her you fell asleep at my place when she called last night. She's coming by around noon to pick you up and head to the cabin."

Deacon nodded. He was embarrassed and ashamed. He should call his sponsor, go to a meeting, but damn, he did not want Rayna to know what had happened.

"Get me home, I need a shower," he said instead.

* * *

"Babe?" Rayna called from the kitchen.

"Yeah?" he responded, setting down the guitar he'd been strumming on in the living room.

"We forgot eggs. I need 'em for the lasagna tonight. I'm gonna run into town quick and get a dozen."

He stood up and grabbed his coat. "Nah, you stay here. I'll go get 'em."

She gave him a quick hug and thanked him for always taking care of her. He felt like shit inside. He wasn't going to get the eggs to help her out-he just couldn't get that bottle of amber liquid off his mind.

* * *

The break from the tour was exactly what they needed. The time at the cabin was blissful, but he knew that she had figured him out. He'd been trying to be subtle-going out to chop wood, taking a pack of gum with him, never drinking more than three drinks at a time, never getting sloppy.

He walked back in the cabin on the last day and she was sitting on the couch with four empty bottles on the coffee table. He couldn't believe there were four of them. He only remembered buying two and he had buried them way down in the garbage when he was done with them.

"Babe."

It was the only word she said. He knew what it meant. He couldn't believe he was screwing everything up like this. For those bottles-they didn't mean anything to him.

"Why?" she asked, her voice breaking.

He shrugged. It wasn't that he wouldn't tell her, he just didn't have the answer for it.

"Why am I not enough?" she cried. "Why aren't we?"

He moved over to the couch and took her in his arms. They stayed that way for hours, not talking, both crying until she finally fell asleep. He laid her down on the couch and put a blanket over her. Walking over to the chair, he picked up his guitar and began to write.

_I'm quitting the bottle at the end of the day_

_Wanna be there for heaven when it opens the gate_

_I'll give up the lying if you're gonna stay_

_I'll be quitting at the end of the day_

 

* * *

**Chapter 3: The Third Time**

* * *

The third time Deacon went to rehab was bad. It started out tragic, then turned sad and finally was just dark and bad.

People would tell him later what had happened. There had been a party. He and Vince had been drinking together. At some point they ended up at his house. He made Vince leave. Vince was drunk, he hit a tree and he died.

It was simple, yet it wasn't. Even the morning Vince died, he never would have predicted things would end up that way.

* * *

"You going to the Bluebird tonight?" Rayna asked as she stood in front of the bathroom mirror putting on another coat of mascara.

"Yeah, I was planning to do a set," Deacon replied. "We've been gone so much it feels like I haven't been there for months."

"I know I love hearing you singin' those songs," Rayna said as she crossed back into their bathroom and leaned in to give him a kiss. "You have any time for me to sneak a duet in there?"

"I'll see if I can work something out," he said, his face creasing with a smile.

Deacon liked to think that things had been good since his last slip and the two months he spent in Arizona getting his life straight again. But, if he was being honest-and he rarely was, they were both in denial. Big time.

He wanted to drink. All. The. Time.

But for the most part, he didn't. He wrote music, he sang with Rayna, they made love and he didn't do the one thing he spent every single minute of every single day thinking about doing. He hardly ever drank. Never around Rayna. Usually not a lot, almost always with Vince.

He and Vince always had the best of intentions about being good, but then a bottle would sneak out, they would have a couple just to grease the creative wheels and the next thing he knew, he was calling Rayna to say he'd be sleeping over at his buddy's house.

He liked to think that she didn't know what was going on, but honestly, he wasn't sure he was fooling anyone.

The plan to go to the Bluebird that night was a good one-it would keep him sober that day because he would not want to disappoint Rayna and he would not want to make a fool of himself in front of her.

The plan, oddly enough, ended up going awry because of Rayna. He was working on the yard when Vince pulled up holding a magazine and a bottle of champagne. Deacon stopped the lawn mower and walked over.

"Hey, what's up?" he asked his best friend.

"Congratulations are in order!" Vince said, passing the magazine over to Deacon.

Deacon scanned down the listing on the page of Billboard. Shit-there it was.

"Are you kidding me?" he asked?

Vince popped the cork on the bottle of champagne he'd been holding. "Number one, Deacon. Congrats, man!"

Watty had told Deacon and Rayna that "No One Will Ever Love You" would be their first number one hit. They both knew it felt incredibly special as they recorded it, but it felt like it was way too quiet a song to really hit the charts.

But it had. Slowly at first, but it got more airplay and then more and now this week. Wow. Their first number one.

Deacon took a drag off the bottle and wiped his hand back across his face. "I need to call Rayna."

"Call her in a little bit. We need to celebrate, this Claybourne! Long time coming, dude. Long time."

And they celebrated. At his place, then down the street at a neighborhood bar with friends and finally back at his place.

"Shit, you need to get out of here," Deacon said as he walked over to the chair where Vince was sprawled.

"Huh?" Vince responded.

"Rayna's gonna be here in ten minutes to pick me up for the Bluebird," Deacon replied. "You gotta get going, dude."

"Sure, sure," Vince said as he stood up and looked around. "You see my keys?"

And Deacon knew that he should have just told Vince to either sleep it off or to call him a cab, but at that moment, all he wanted was to get rid of his friend so he could celebrate with Rayna rather than get into another fight with her about getting drunk with Vince again.

* * *

Vince almost made it home. Across town, into the country and headed toward the little farm he'd bought with a songwriting deal he'd struck a few years ago. Only another mile and he'd been home safe and sound.

Instead he'd wrapped himself around a tree. And died.

Deacon and Rayna never made it to the Bluebird that night. Instead they were in bed, celebrating their record, when the phone rang.

Deacon wanted to just let it ring, but Rayna grabbed the phone.

He didn't need to even hear the words to know that the message was a bad one. Her face crumpled and she started to cry. He took the phone from her.

"This is Deacon," he said.

It was Vince's dad. Deacon had met him a few times over the years. His voice was quiet, telling Deacon the news. He listened, then hung up the phone. He felt spent.

Rayna wiped the tears from her eyes. "Are you okay?" she asked, her hand running lightly down his arm, her own brand of comfort.

He looked up and shook his head. "No."

* * *

The darkness of Vince's death and his guilt swallowed him whole. There were no words that helped him. He couldn't write, he couldn't play his guitar, he couldn't sing, he couldn't stand to have Rayna trying to help him.

"I"m going to the cabin," he finally announced one day.

"I don't think that's a good idea," she responded. "I think you need to stay here, talk to someone, try to work this out."

He turned and walked out of the house. Nothing was going to bring Vince back, but at least at the cabin he didn't have to pretend for anyone that he wasn't completely responsible for all of this happening.

It was a blur of whiskey and blackouts and hangovers, just rinsing and recycling over and over again.

After two weeks he woke one morning-or more accurately one afternoon to find Rayna standing over him with Coleman Carlisle.

"We getting the keys to the city?" he asked as he rolled over in bed and reached for the bottle of whiskey sitting on the bedside table. He took a long pull from the bottle and set it back down.

"Deacon, you need help," Rayna said. "You aren't helping Vince by doing this."

"Nothing can help Vince," he answered. "Not you, not your buddy here, Coleman, not even this bottle of Old Crow."

"Rayna, why don't you let us talk," Coleman said.

Rayna looked like she didn't want to leave, but after a moment, nodded her head and walked back out of the cabin.

"You've got a lot of people pretty worried, Deacon," Coleman said.

"Fuck them," Deacon replied. And he meant it. He didn't give a shit about any of them. He just wanted that voice that was drumming in his head to be silent. He wanted it to stop poking him and shouting at him about what he did.

He killed Vince.

"You know, it wasn't your fault," Coleman said.

What was he even doing here? He was, what, Rayna's friend? Why was some guy he had nodded to three times in his life here now?

"But you're never gonna be able to know that if you can't get yourself straight, Deacon."

"Why do you care?" Deacon asked, lifting his head from where his eyes had trained on the floor to look at the man sitting across from him.

"Cause somebody did it for me. I was in a dark place, too, Deacon. And someone reached a hand out to me. That's what I'm doing. Let me help you back from that place."

"I don't want to leave it," Deacon said, shaking his head. "I'm fine where I'm at."

"It won't help Vince," Coleman replied. "And it's sure isn't helping Rayna. I know you care about her."

"She should get the hell away from me," Deacon spat back. "Haven't you seen? I hurt or kill everyone around me."

"So let me help you," Coleman said again.

And so Deacon did and it worked-for a little while.

TBC

* * *

**Chapter 4: The Fourth Time**

* * *

He could feel the tube in his throat and started to choke. He shook his head and tried to reach his hands up, but they were tied down.

"Mr. Claybourne, I need you to settle down. We're only trying to help you."

He arched his back, opened his eyes and tried to focus on the people surrounding him.

"Can't you do something? Give him something? He doesn't understand what's happening!"

Deacon tried to turn his head toward the sound of Rayna's voice. She sounded upset.

"We're doing everything we can, Ms. Jaymes. You need to let us help him now," the other woman said. He tried to focus his eyes again as he saw them usher Rayna out of the room.

Hospital. Again. Why?

His brain buzzed as he tried to put the pieces together, but there was nothing there to make sense of how or why this was happening again.

* * *

When he woke again later, he was in a semi-dark room. He could feel the clip in his nose with oxygen and looked down at his right arm with both an IV and a restraint on it. He looked over at his left arm, not surprised to find that one restrained as well.

His throat was sore and his stomach hurt. They must have been pumping his stomach earlier when he'd come to in the emergency room. It always hurt more than you thought it would.

He could see someone sitting in the chair next to his bed, sleeping. Rayna. Why hadn't she given up on him? He had. More than once.

* * *

He hadn't even made it through the full rehab last time. Lasted about a week and then checked himself out. He'd been at the cabin for a week when Rayna came and found him.

"Hey," he said as she got out of the car and started walking up toward him. He laid the guitar he'd been playing aside and waited on the old couch for her to come sit next to him.

"You didn't think to call me?" she said as she came and sat next to him.

He slipped her hand inside of his and sat for a moment. "I can't stand to hurt you any more."

"I can't stand to have you hurt me anymore," she replied.

He leaned his head in and kissed her softly on the lips. "I'm never gonna get past this, Rayna. I'm too far gone."

She slid her arm around him and laid her head down on his chest. "I'd do anything to take this pain away from you, Deacon."

"I know," he replied. "But I think it's more than either of us can handle." He straightened back up, pulling away from her. "I think you should probably go."

Rayna stood up and held her hand out to him. "I'm not going anywhere, Deacon. Not right now."

He looked at her for a moment, then reached up for her hand, stood and followed her inside.

* * *

They knew sex wasn't a solution, but at the same time, lying in bed with Rayna in his arms made him feel safe again. There were times that he thought if he never needed to leave their bed, that everything could be okay.

Rayna turned on her side and tucked her body against his. "I never want to be anywhere else."

"We might get hungry after a while," Deacon replied.

"I won't," she answered. "I'll just nibble on you," she said as she playfully nipped his arm.

"We can't hide from life, Rayna. You know that and so do I. The tour starts in a couple weeks and I know we have tracks to finish in the studio. We can't cancel any more dates. People will start to think you're unreliable and that's the furthest thing from the truth."

Rayna had done her best to cover for his troubles, but Nashville was a small town and although people liked Deacon and felt bad he'd been having such a hard time, it was now well known that he was getting to be more trouble than his was worth and people were starting to question why Rayna was sticking by him and getting sucked back down with him as he began circling the drain.

* * *

The days at the cabin were magic, like the early days with singing, songwriting, hours in bed together, swimming in the lake and total relaxation. But the phone rang, Bucky came calling and the cycle started all over again.

"Do you mind doing another take?" Rayna asked, pulling her headphones off in the recording booth.

"Nah, just give me a second," Deacon replied. "I need to run to the john."

She laughed as he laid his guitar down and headed down the hall to the restroom. Inside, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the packet of pills. He hadn't had a drink since she came and found him at the cabin. He popped the pill, took a quick drink of water, splashed a little on his face and then reached for one more pill.

This would be the last one, but it would help him get through the night of work.

* * *

The pills were almost more insidious than the booze had been. And it was easier to do in secret. Of course Rayna knew something was up, his eyes were bright, he was edgy, but there weren't any empty bottles and no whiskey on his breath.

It was the perfect solution. Sort of.

First he only needed one. Then he needed two. Then he was calling the dealer more often. It wasn't like just running out to the liquor store and being on tour didn't make it any easier.

They were in Denver on the first anniversary of Vince's death. When Rayna first saw the schedule, she tried to get Bucky to change the date, but with all the moving parts of the tour and arena schedules, it just wasn't possible.

Deacon was sitting in the dressing room before the show when Rayna knocked, then walked in.

"You okay?" she asked, as she came up behind him and slipped her arm around him. "Penny for your thoughts."

He turned toward her and smiled. "I was just thinkin' that Vince would be glad we're out there singing music tonight instead of sitting around crying about him."

He knew it was the right thing to say and he wished it was really how he felt. The truth was, he wanted to mute the pain as much that day as he had any of the others. It was all he could think about. But he'd been doing so much better. He hadn't taken anything or had anything to drink all week.

They played all their tunes, going out with their number one hit, his eyes meeting Rayna's as they sang the words "No one will ever love you" over and over on the final repeat. "Like I do, like I do, like I do..."

He wanted to keep that feeling forever. As they walked off stage, he pulled her aside. "Go get changed. I need to talk to you about something. I'll meet you in an hour."

"Okay," she replied.

* * *

It wasn't like they'd never talked about getting married before. But there had been reasons to not do it. They wanted to get their career started. They needed to deal with Rayna's dad. Vince died. Deacon's sobriety was too fragile. There had been so many reasons to not do get married.

But now, with Vince gone and he and Rayna better than they'd ever been, he knew they could do it.

He went into the dressing room and reached into his guitar case for the velvet box. He snapped it open and looked down at the ring, its diamond glinting in the light. It wasn't much-even with the records and tours, there still wasn't much extra for things like diamond rings. But hopefully it would be enough for Rayna.

"You meeting Rayna?"

Deacon turned to find Bucky standing in the door. He pushed the velvet box into his jeans pocket. "Yeah, I'm just going to run out for a minute, but then I'm gonna take her out for dinner. Somewhere special." He winked at Bucky.

Bucky nodded. "Good luck, man."

* * *

Later, in the hospital, he tried to put the pieces of the evening together. He was going to propose to Rayna. He was going to meet her to go out to dinner and then he woke up in the hospital, stomach being pumped, on oxygen with Rayna asleep in the chair next to his bed. He looked down and saw the box in her hands.

He went again to get out of bed, his mind muddled enough to not comprehend that the restraints on his hands would keep him in bed as well.

"Let me call someone to take those things off," he heard Rayna say, her voice clogged with sleep. "They just didn't want you to pull the tubes out."

He watched while she went out in the hall. When she came back she offered him a sip of water. He nodded, so she held the cup with a straw up to his mouth. He took a long drink and she set the glass back down.

"What happened?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I don't even know, anymore, Deacon." She set the box down on the table next to his bed. "I waited for you to come back to get me for dinner. Seemed like you had someone special on your mind. But you never showed up. Instead I got a call from the Denver Police Department saying you were down here suffering from an overdose. I gotta tell you, if you were trying to find some special way to ask me to marry you, this wasn't really the best one."

He knew she was tired, hurt and justifiably angry at him, but he could also see it in her eyes. She was done with him. Even if it was his last time before they got married, he had taken the risk and lost. He'd lost her. He'd lost everything.

"I'm glad you're okay, Deacon, but I...I gotta get out of here," she said. "I hope you get better. But you and me. I think we're done."

* * *

**Chapter 5: The Fifth Time**

* * *

The last time he'd seen Rayna, she said she was done with him. And to be fair, he believed her. She needed to be done with him. For so many reasons.

He tried rehab again. A fourth time. At least this time he stayed for the full eight weeks. And when he got out, he joined AA and this time he had Coleman as his sponsor.

He stayed away from Rayna.

He was working the program.

He made music. A little bit. He didn't tour. He worked a little construction, played as a session musician on a lot of albums and he paid his rent.

He didn't see Rayna. He didn't talk to her. No calling, no driving by her new apartment where she'd moved all of her stuff while he was gone, no walks in the park where they used to sit and talk and more than anything, he really, really tried to not pay attention to the gossip columns talking about Rayna and her new boyfriend.

Teddy Conrad. What grown man called himself Teddy? Deacon wanted to hate him immediately.

But he couldn't, because based on the photos he'd seen on the lifestyle page of The Tennessean, she seemed happy.

* * *

He was at the studio working on some tracks for Vince Gill when it finally happened. He was just packing up his guitar when she walked into the studio.

"Oh...sorry...I'm comin' to do some vocal tracks with Vince and...how are you?" she said.

Wow, he hadn't seen Rayna Jaymes flustered for a long time...pretty much not since that night they first met at that open mic night when she was barely sixteen.

"You, you look good, Deacon," she added.

"I am," he replied. "You do too."

"How are you?" she asked. And she sounded sincere, but then again, Rayna had always cared about him.

"I'm doing okay, seems like I've been able to stay away from all of my vices this time."

"Like me?" she asked.

He grabbed his guitar and started moving toward the door. "Yeah, something like that."

She reached out and touched his arm. "I'm really glad you're doing so well, Deacon. It means everything to me."

"Take care of yourself, Rayna," he said as he walked out of the door. He needed to put as much distance between the two of them. It was the only way this would work.

* * *

He didn't see her again for a couple of weeks. And then it happened again. He'd told Vince that they needed to make sure to schedule their slots on different days, not just different times. He didn't need to keep running into Rayna. Not now. He wasn't strong enough.

But he'd had an appointment with his shrink that got moved and he'd had to reschedule and so when he showed up again for his recording slot, there she was in the booth. Damn, Rayna singing. He couldn't even listen to her CDs anymore. It was too hard. He stood in the back of the room just listening to her voice wash over him. It was like a glass of the best Kentucky bourbon sliding down his throat.

He left, called Coleman and they went to a meeting.

But Nashville was a small town and even smaller when you were both artists. When you were both artists working on the same album, it was almost like you were sharing a room at the nursing home. There was no avoiding one another.

"You sound good," he finally said when she came out.

"Thanks," she replied.

"I miss singin' with you," Deacon admitted.

She looked over at me and nodded. "Me too. I wish..."

"I know," He replied and he did. He wished everything was different.

"I gotta go," she says. And as she does, this guy walks into the studio and Deacon knows immediately and it's not just from seeing all of those photos of them in the Tennessean. This is the guy. This is Teddy Conrad.

Teddy sticks his hand right out and introduces himself. Deacon can't help giving him a quick look up and down. Looks...well, looks like a junior version of Lamar.

"Teddy Conrad," he says.

Deacon takes his hand. "Deacon Claybourne. It's good to meet you."

"Deacon."

And he can tell immediately that Teddy's heard all about Deacon, but he bets most of it wasn't from Rayna.

"We should go. Tandy's gotta be waitin' on us," Rayna says as she refuses to meet Deacon's eyes. She tucks her arm into Teddy's and turns him toward the door. As they start out, they stop and Teddy turns back to Deacon. He also gives him the full up and down.

"It's good to finally meet you, Deacon," he says. Deacon isn't sure if he has to say anything else, but before he can Rayna tugs Teddy out the door and they're gone.

* * *

Deacon sat on the couch later that night working on a new song he thought he'd call  _Sideshow_  when there was a knock at his door.

He opened up the door, surprised, but then again not to find Rayna standing there.

"Hey," he says as he stands in the door, neither barring her, nor inviting her in.

"Hey," she replies. She's all dressed up like she spent the night at the Belle Meade Country Club.

"You out weedin' the garden tonight?" he teases. Deacon knew Rayna hated the country club, so they would use the code of calling it the garden when the talked about it and the people who spent their time there.

"Yeah, somethin' like that," she replied. "Can I come in?"

Deacon stepped back and she followed him into the house.

"So, that's Teddy," he finally said.

"Yeah," she replies.

"Seems nice."

She laughs. God he misses that laugh. "He is, Deacon. Not your type, that's for sure, but he's a good guy."

"Your sister fix you two up?" he asks. Tandy had turned in her membership in the Deacon Claybourne fan club after the second trip to rehab. Sisters were a tough crowd.

"She did."

"Is it serious?" he asks. He needs to know where he stands with her.

She shrugs. "I don't know. He's nice and..."

He can't wait for another word to come out of her mouth, but instead grabs her and presses her up against the wall. He's waited months to kiss her and it's gonna kill him if he has to wait one more minute.

After what feels like hours, they pull apart.

"We can't do this, Deacon. Cole says..." she starts.

"I can't not be with you, Rayna," he answers. "I've been tryin' but part of me is dyin' every day stayin' away from you."

Deacon pulls her to him again and then before he knows it, they've crossed the living room and are headed into my bedroom.

It's like nothing has ever changed between them. Deacon pulls her to him and without words, they become one again.

* * *

If Deacon Claybourne's life was a happy country song, then that would have been all it took to put he and Rayna back on track. But everybody knows there aren't really any happy country songs.

In the morning when he rolled over to pull her back toward me, the other side of the bed was empty and she was gone and just like that, she was gone from his life again.

He called.

He went to her usual spots.

He went to that new apartment.

Finally after a couple of weeks, Bucky called and told him to lay off, leave her alone. That was the final straw. Honestly, sending Bucky to do her dirty work.

He'd like to say he was a stronger man, that he got over it, but he didn't. He couldn't. Deacon could give up the booze and the drugs, but he couldn't give up Rayna.

* * *

It started with a couple of drinks, then a bottle at home, then it was back to the little bottle with the painkillers, trying to find anything to dull that ache back in him.

He knew he had to stop, that this wasn't gonna help me, but he didn't want help. He wanted Rayna.

That night, the last night at her apartment was the worst. Deacon's lowest moment in so many ways.

When he pulled up, her lights were on. Finally he'd get her to talk to him. As he headed up to the door, Deacon knew he was lit-that this was not the right way to have this conversation, but the painkillers had finally dulled that last bit of sense he had and he really didn't care.

Deacon pounded on the door. There was no way she was going to ignore him this time. What Deacon didn't plan on was having Teddy open the door to answer his knocks.

"What are you doing here, Deacon?" he asked.

Deacon pushed past Teddy into the apartment. Rayna was sitting there on the couch and she'd been crying.

"What did you do to her?" Deacon cried as he rushed to her side.

"Get out of here, Deacon," she said. "You're in no shape."

"What did you do to her?" Deacon roared as he grabbed Teddy's arm and pushed him away.

"Deacon, no!" she cried.

The rest was a blur. A haze of fury and voices and finally more pounding at the door.

"Deacon Claybourne?" He turned to find a Nashville police officer standing in the door.

He grabbed the police officer, shoving him toward Teddy. "He's the one you want. He's the one making her cry," Deacon shouted.

"Deacon, no!" Rayna called out again.

And then it went to black.

* * *

Deacon woke up what must have been the next morning in a jail cell. From the looks of his knuckles, he'd hit at least one person. A jailer at the door was calling his name.

"Come on, Mr. Claybourne. You're being arraigned. Let's get a move on."

Deacon followed him down the hallway past the cells. "Arraigned for what?" he asked.

"Assault and battery, assaulting a police officer," he responded.

"Assault?"

And with that simple question, the memory of the night rushed back and Deacon knew not only what he had done, but that once and for all, Rayna was out of his life.

* * *

**Chapter 6: The Time He Didn't**

* * *

 

Maddie was his daughter. His daughter. He and Rayna had a baby.

He pressed the accelerator down pressing the Suburban toward Bridgestone Arena where the Country Music Awards were being hosted this year. He looked at the dash. He was late, too late to pick up Rayna, but how could he pick up Rayna, she had lied to him.

He pulled up to the gate and flashed his performer badge. The guard pointed him toward a back row in the parking lot.

Grab your guitar, get out there, perform the song, talk to Rayna.

Lied to him.

Okay, just get in there, get it over with. He pulled the guitar case from the truck and headed into the arena.

* * *

"Hey, I thought you were comin' to get me?" Rayna said as he grabbed his guitar and slipped it on.

"Got waylaid," he lied as he followed Brad up onto the stage. Get this song over and talk to her. Maybe Maddie had misunderstood, because there was no way she would have kept this to him, now way she would not have told him after things ended with Teddy, no way she would have not have given him this information after he expressed all his regrets about everything that they had lost...

He could feel her eyes on him, just get through the song, remember the chords, finish it up, get off the stage.

He felt like it was taking every single bit of energy to just work his way through the song.

Bitter memory. Seemed appropriate somehow.

Finally the song finished. He walked off the stage after them and headed backstage.

"You comin' to the dressing room?" Rayna asked.

"Yeah, just a minute...I'll be there in a minute," Deacon replied. He just needed to pull his shit together.

* * *

After a moment of just trying to clear his mind, he walked down to her dressing room and asked her crew to leave them alone.

"Maddie came to see me," he started.

It was like the world stopped moving as he repeated what Maddie had told him and even as he was asking her to tell him it wasn't true he could see the real truth washing across Rayna's face. He would say that she was incapable of lying to him, except she had-every moment of the last thirteen years.

It couldn't be possible. It couldn't, except she was telling him now. But he got sober. That was all he had to hold on to. How could she not have told him. How was it possible?

"You broke every stick of furniture in my apartment," Rayna continued.

That night at her apartment, she had been on the couch crying and she was there because she was pregnant and he had a daughter. Maddie was his daughter.

He had to get out of there. Right now.

* * *

He drove around aimlessly and then pulled up back in front of the bar. The bar he had gone to that night with Vince. He sat there for a minute, then opened the door and got out. He stopped on the sidewalk, then pulled open the door, walked in and sat down at the bar.

"What can I get you, buddy?" the bartender asked.

"Bourbon. Something smooth," he responded. He sat for a moment just looking at the glass. The TV was on behind the bar and there she was. He told the bartender to turn it off, picked up and drained the shot. It was as cool and as smooth as he remembered.

"You know what, I'd like another."

And then there was another and then another and then another.

* * *

The next morning was a blur. Teddy telling him that he was a loser. Telling him that Rayna deserved a thousand times better than him. For once, Teddy was probably right.

Back to the house, Scarlett, Coleman, Gunnar. He just needed them to all go away, he needed everyone to just get out.

He threw himself up at Coleman, screaming. Everyone had given up on him.

"You told her to cut me loose!" he yelled at the man he had trusted.

Scarlett was there, crying. What had he done? What had he done? He fell to the chair, crying, spent.

When he woke up again, Coleman was there. He just needed to get everyone out of there, so he told Cole the only thing he knew would get rid of him.

"I'd like to go to a meeting."

And it worked. Finally they all just left him alone.

God, what a mess. He'd made a huge mess of everything. Again.

He looked down at his phone. Twenty calls from Rayna. Five from Scarlett. The voicemail signal said there were twelve messages. Rayna calling and begging him to call her. He just couldn't.

And Juliette. Her mom, she sounded so broken, just like him. She wanted him to come to the Bluebird. Maybe if he could just get there, maybe things would stop unraveling.

* * *

The instant he walked in there, with Juliette singing up on the stage, he knew it was a mistake. Rayna looked over at him, then headed toward him. He just wasn't ready to deal with her. Not yet. Not yet.

"Hey," Rayna said as she caught up to him.

He told her to go away. He just wanted everyone to go away, to leave him alone. He pulled open the car door and got in.

"Are you drunk?"

"Go back inside," he demanded.

She pushed him toward the passenger seat. "Slide over, right now. I'm not letting you..."

"Dammit, Rayna, let me go!" he cried.

Neither one of them spoke at first as she began driving back toward his house. He pulled the bottle out from between the seats and took another long drink.

She looked over at him and just shook her head. "You wonder why I didn't tell you sooner."

"You were never gonna tell me," he replied.

"You don't know that!"

"I know you, Rayna and I knew it...I knew there was somethin' you were keeping from me, I just never thought it could be something like this, something like the only thing you knew I ever wanted, that family that I dreamed of," Deacon answered, taking another drink from the bottle.

"How could you do this to us again?" she was cried as she sped down the street.

"Watch out Rayna!" he called out and then the world flipped over and over again and went quiet.

* * *

**Chapter 7: Epilogue**

* * *

_I realized I hadn't quite said it all and I'd written some stuff that didn't work in the earlier part of the story, so here's an epilogue-that's almost as long as the story itself! Thanks to BeckyPo for a great plot suggestion and everyone who's been reading and so supportive. - Rachel_

* * *

Deacon slowly became aware of the sounds and smells around him. The beep of a heart monitor, the plastic of the oxygen cannula in his nose, the antiseptic smell of a hospital room. He thought about opening his eyes, then thought better of it as the pain exploded around his ears with his slight movement.

Pain seemed to be the order of the day from his head to his ribs to his shoulder.

He groaned at the memory of what must have been the night before. The fighting. The drinking. Oh god...Maddie.

"Uncle Deacon?"

He cracked his right eye open a crack to see Scarlett standing over his bed. She brushed his hair back and he wanted to cry-from the pain, from her tenderness.

"How...how's Rayna?" he managed to get out.

"Like you-all banged up, but you were lucky. That stupid old car was built like a tank," Scarlett replied. "You scared us, though."

And he knew he had and it wasn't just about the car accident.

"I'm so sorry, Scarlett," he replied, starting to break down again.

"It's gonna be okay, Deacon. We'll figure it out," she said. "Can I get you anything? Call anyone for you?"

He just shook his head. He was pretty sure he'd run out of all of his options.

* * *

Spending a couple of days in bed while they observed him for a severe concussion, a dislocated shoulder, four broken ribs and a liver laceration had given Deacon a lot of time to think.

Maddie was his daughter. Every time he played that thought over in his head it shocked him all over again. Except it didn't.

It's like when you read a book and at points it seems familiar, but never so much that you stop and put it down-and then you realize that you read it years ago.

If he was being honest with himself, Rayna, Teddy, Maddie, anyone, he'd always known.

And strange that knowing that deep in the back of his mind is a big part of what kept him sober all those years, even when he'd gotten out of his court ordered rehab that last time and found Rayna married to Teddy Conrad. He had not done the math because he didn't want to know the answer.

Scarlett had been hovering, but he told her he didn't want anyone else coming by. She said Coleman wanted to see him and that Tandy had come up to the room. He had said no, that the doctors said he needed to keep quiet with the concussion, but he also needed to get his head and his heart straight.

On the third day, the doctor came in during the morning rounds and announced it was time for him to leave.

"You need to take it easy, but there's been no sign of intracranial pressure, the liver has healed up fine and the only thing that's going to make those ribs feel better is time and some ibuprofen. Now, did the physical therapist come up to talk to you about the shoulder?"

Deacon nodded. The young woman had come the day before, taken his sling off and showed him how he needed to moved the joint as much as he was able to keep it from freezing up. It was his right arm and he worried that it could cause him some trouble down the road with his guitar playing.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Claybourne?" the doctor asked.

He shook his head. Nothing other than ripping open a seam in the space time continuum and helping him take it all back.

* * *

Scarlett helped him get his shirt on, but he waved her away telling her that he'd figure out how to get his own pants on and off, thank you very much. He tried to pull on his boots, but it was a two handed operation, so without a word she came over and helped him pull them on.

"You gonna stop and see Rayna?" she asked. "I think she's probably headed home tomorrow, but she's just down the hall."

"I..." he started and then stopped. "I'm not sure it's just a good idea, Scarlett."

"I think it might make you feel better," she replied. "Make you both feel better. Here, let me get your bag..." Her voice trailed off as the door to the room opened up.

"I heard you were on your way out."

Deacon looked over where Rayna sat in a wheelchair, Bucky standing behind her.

"Can y'all just give us a minute?" Rayna asked.

Scarlett picked her purse up and followed Bucky out the door. Deacon moved over to the chair by the bed and sat down slowly, unable to hold back a small groan as the pain shot from his ribs once again.

"You're a lucky bastard, you know that?" she said as she pushed the chair forward.

He looked down at the cast on her lower leg. She also had a pretty good knot on the side of her head.

"Did you know that old truck only had an airbag for the driver?" she asked. She reached out and touched his injured shoulder. "Seatbelt injuries, they told me. Shoulder, ribs, the liver...dammit, Deacon, I could have killed us both."

"Don't say that, Rayna," he replied. "I think we both got us here."

"Can you forgive me?" she asked.

He knew what she was asking. It wasn't about the accident, which wasn't her fault anyway. He knew he wanted to forgive her.

He reached out and took her hand in his left, uninjured hand. "I want to forgive it all, to forget, to be the guy who told you a week ago that there had been a lot of water under our bridge and we'd just have to live with it, but I don't know if I can, Rayna."

"Is there anything I can do for you?" she asked. "Do you...can we...I think we need to talk about this stuff, about what you found out, about what happened. We have to talk about it, Deacon."

He looked up at her, his eyes filling with tears. "I know we do, Ray. I just, I need to sit with it for a little bit, but I promise, we'll talk about it. I won't run away from this or from you."

"I'm always gonna love you, Deacon," she answered. "I've always been in love with you."

This time he had to figure out how to make that enough.

* * *

Even though the doctor told him it would take a while, he was still surprised that it took a good two weeks until his head felt right again. Maybe it was just a sign he was getting old.

He couldn't get rid of Scarlett, but he wasn't sure how much of that was just her not being sure she wanted to be the same place as Gunnar. He wasn't getting a lot of answers out of her, but he also wasn't asking a lot of questions.

He had never asked a lot of questions. Maybe that was his own fault.

His sister came up after the first week to look after him. Having her there was nice-he found himself sitting out on the porch swing drinking her sweet tea, not having to have a lot of long, hard conversations.

She was sitting next to him on the fourth day when he set down his half empty glass and turned to her.

"Scarlett tell you what got this all started?" he asked.

She took a sip of her own tea and nodded. "Yep. You. Rayna. Her little girl."

"You shocked?" he asked.

She laughed, somewhat uncharacteristically. "Are you serious, Deacon Claybourne?"

"What do you mean?"

"I just assumed it was something you all decided not to talk about, that you had an arrangement. I knew that girl was yours since the first time I saw her picture in People magazine in the "does she look like mommy or daddy" section. Frankly, she didn't look like either of them. She looked exactly like you did when you were a baby."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Deacon asked.

"I just figured it wasn't any of my business," she answered.

This was the thing that kept creeping back in his thoughts in the weeks since he found out about Maddie and they had the accident. Why hadn't he known? Or had he and just pushed it away from his conscientiousness.

Maybe he should have known it that day he walked out of rehab the last time and she wasn't there like she always had been.

* * *

Deacon walked out of Riverside to find Coleman standing on the sidewalk next to his car. He hitched his duffel bag over his shoulder, tightened his hold on his guitar case and reached his right hand to take Coleman's hand.

"Thanks for coming, Cole," he said.

"Of course, Deacon. I'm glad to see you looking so good," Coleman replied. "Figured maybe I could give you a ride home, help you get settled back in."

Deacon looked over at the car. "Rayna not coming?"

Coleman shook his head. "You gonna be okay?"

Deacon nodded. "Yeah, I'm gonna get by."

They got in the car and started heading back toward Deacon's house. Deacon wasn't sure what the protocol for this was-could he ask about her? Maybe he needed to talk to his parole officer. The rehab had been a condition of his plea agreement with a suspended sentence and parole if he did his program and stayed sober.

"She doesn't have like a restraining order against me or anything, does she?" Deacon finally asked.

Coleman looked over, taking his eyes off the road for a moment. "No, but, I think you need to be ready to face the fact that she isn't gonna be in your life, any longer, Deacon."

"Yeah," Deacon replied.

Coleman pulled up in front of Deacon's house. "I gotta tell you something and I think it's gonna be pretty hard for you to hear, but Deacon, I know you're strong and I know you can get past this."

"What's going on, Cole?" Deacon asked.

"Rayna and Teddy got married about six weeks ago."

"Why would she do that?" Deacon asked. "How long have they even been dating?" Deacon leaned his head against the car window, physically moving himself as far from the news as he could.

"They've been together about six months, Deacon. You knew it was going on."

"Shit, we dated for six years before I ever got up the courage to ask her to marry me. Six months?"

Coleman put his hand on Deacon's arm. "There's one more thing, you need to know. She's having a baby."

Deacon took a deep breath, then pulled the latch opening the car door. Jesus, Rayna. A Belle Meade guy your sister picked out for you and you get yourself knocked up. She had always been so careful when they had been together-not wanting to think about a baby while they were still on their way up.

He had always thought it would happen for them someday-they'd have their careers, they'd get married and they'd have a family.

And it was all happening for her now, but it was happening with Teddy.

"Sorry to lay this all out on you, but I wanted you to hear it from me," Coleman said as he came around the side of the care where Deacon was standing.

"She wasn't gonna come and tell me, was she?" Deacon replied.

"No, I think...I think it's going to take her awhile, Deacon. I don't know that she's ever lost faith in you, but her trust has been tested. And that's gonna take her awhile."

* * *

He remembered the first day he saw Rayna after that last time in rehab. It was his first year anniversary of sobriety. With his one year chip in his pocket, he drove over to the diner by the studio and pulled up in the parking lot. He sat there for a minute, looking in the window. He had wondered if she would be there-it had always been their tradition to go have breakfast at this place on the morning of an album release day.

He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, opened the car door and got out. It was worth a shot.

He walked in and scanned down the line of booths. He could see the back of her head, that gorgeous hair and then something he hadn't considered...a high chair sticking out on the end of the booth. He stopped, not sure if he should go down there or not.

"Mornin' hon," the waitress said as she went past him with a pot of coffee. "You want your usual?"

Turns out he and Rayna weren't the only ones who knew about the tradition.

"Uh, just a cup of coffee, Vera," he replied. "Thanks."

He walked down past the other tables, paused for a moment, trying to decide what to do when the baby looked up and smiled at him.

"You smiling at Vera, baby?" Rayna said. She turned and the look on her face fell.

What had he expected?

"Deacon," she said.

"May I?" he asked as he pointed to the empty side of the booth.

She nodded wordlessly.

Vera hurried down and set a cup of coffee in front of Deacon. "You sure you don't want the eggs and hash?"

Deacon waved her away with a shake of his head.

Rayna pulled the baby out of the high chair and took her in her arms. Deacon didn't know much about babies, but she must be a couple of months old.

"You look good," she finally said.

"Thanks," he replied. "She's cute."

"This is Maddie," Rayna replied as she moved the baby's hand in a wave to him.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Maddie," he responded to the baby and Rayna. "She's getting big-how old is she?"

"It'll be 4 months next week," Rayna replied.

Deacon nodded, not wanting to do the math in his head to think about how quickly Rayna had taken up with Teddy after they broke up.

"Congratulations on the record, Rayna. I'm sure it'll be another great hit," he offered.

"Thanks. I...I missed you, on those last few tracks. But I think "Already Gone" is gonna hit big. Bucky wants the label to release it first."

"I didn't mean to just drop in on you," Deacon started as he reached into his pocket. He held the chip in his fingers. "I wanted to apologize to you, to set things straight between us and to give you this..." He slid the chip across the table to Rayna.

"I, uh, I've been sober for a year today. Got that this morning at my meetin'. I know I should have come and made amends earlier, but I just couldn't do it until I knew that I could keep up my end of the bargain, keep myself clean this time."

Rayna looked down at the chip, then picked it up. She looked up at him, tears beginning to form in her eyes. "Thank you, Deacon."

"Maybe someday we can be friends again," he said as he stood up.

She reached out and touched his arm with her left hand, her right arm holding the baby. "Me too."

* * *

Deacon's recovery continued over the next few weeks. His mind felt clearer every day, his ribs quieted in their aching and the shoulder, well the shoulder would get better with time.

He started going to meetings every day. He sat quietly, not ready to share. Most days, Coleman came and sat next to him. They didn't talk much.

One morning, after he got back from his physical therapy appointment, his phone buzzed.

_Meet me at our spot? 20 minutes?_

It was the first he'd heard from Rayna. Until he got the text he would have not have been able to say he was ready to see her.

 _I'll be ther_ e, he texted back.

When Scarlett pulled up, Tandy's car sat on the bridge a few feet. It looked like neither one of them were cleared to start driving again.

He got out of the car and paused.

"Just go talk to her," Scarlett said.

He hadn't asked his niece if she'd talked to Rayna about him. He knew she'd started recording and it was Rayna's label, so chances were that Scarlett had seen her, but he didn't want to ask.

He walked slowly over to the picnic table where Rayna sat, her crutches next to her, ankle still in a protective boot.

"Haven't quite gotten back to wall jumping," he said as he sat down.

She smiled. "Thanks for coming."

"Yeah," he replied.

"I probably should have called sooner," she started. "I just, I didn't really know what to say."

"Me either," he admitted. He looked over at her. She looked tired.

"Maddie has had a lot of questions for us and I know you do, too, and you deserve answers."

"I didn't handle it very well," Deacon replied as he looked at the water rushing past them under the stone bridge, unable to keep meeting her eye as they talked. "When this all started for us again, I told you that you didn't need to tell me your secrets and I shouldn't have said that. Secrets are no good for us. I told you there was so much water under our bridge, that we might drown in it and then I did-I tried to drown myself. I'm very sorry for that."

She slid her hand out of her pocket and handed his something. He looked down at it. It was his chip-the one he'd given her years ago, that first day he saw Maddie.

"This is what I know, Deacon-I want us to fix this and I know it's going to take time. I know that I've got stuff to do and I know you've got to get a handle on things as well and until we both do that, we're not going to be able to be any kind of parents to Maddie, not together, not apart. And that's the most important thing to me. My girls-they're the world to me."

He looked down at the chip, thinking about everything it had represented all those years before.

"I'm not saying that's going to take a year-I know that you're gonna know when you're ready for us to move on and I'm tellin' you now that I'm going to be working just as hard to make sure I'm ready for you, whatever that's gonna mean for us."

She wrapped her hand around his, the chip tight between them.

"So, you tell me. You tell me when we're ready to move on."

Deacon looked up at the stream and met her eyes. "You remember the last time we were here?" he asked.

"After I found out about Teddy and Peggy, yeah," she replied.

"Well, what I said then, about the girls being the most important thing, I still feel that way, and you-you're everything to them. I don't ever want to get in the way of that."

She reached up and touched his face. "It's never been about you getting in the way, Deacon. It's just been about not knowing how to do the right thing. I told you after Teddy and I split that I was going to do right by you. I've always known in my heart that meant making a place for you in Maddie's life. I didn't know if it meant there was a place for me there, as well."

He leaned in and kissed her, deeply. It nearly made him gasp as he pulled her close with his good arm against those sore ribs.

Finally he let go. "Rayna, you make my heart break and it bleeds and it hurts, but sometimes I swear it's the only thing that makes me know I'm still alive."

She leaned in and kissed him again. "You call me-when it's time. I'll be waiting."

With that, she got up from the table and grabbed her crutches, moving slowly back toward Tandy's car.

Deacon didn't follow immediately, instead his eyes went back to the rushing stream in front of him.

He knew she was right-he would know when he was solid again and it was time for them to start again.

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Beth Pryor for all of her help with this story. You're the best!


End file.
